


had me going for some time

by turnontheghostlight



Category: Polygon/McElroy Vlogs & Podcasts RPF
Genre: (That's new!), Angst, Jonah POV, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Overuse of italics, Unrequited, working title: heeheehoohoo jonah time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-20 18:27:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18998104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnontheghostlight/pseuds/turnontheghostlight
Summary: Morning awakens himIt has taken himAway from the illusion of happinessHere where the ground is not as safe as it may soundJonah moves to Brooklyn with Brian, and it'sfine.





	had me going for some time

**Author's Note:**

> yeah so this came out of uhhhhhhhh absolutely fuckin nowhere!!! huh!!!!!!
> 
> basically i started writing brijo but it felt like it was going the same direction all my previous fics have gone (feelings realization/confessions) and i was like "alright how can i make this different" so basically woops i wrote unrequited brijo angst
> 
> hope you... enjoy? is that the right word for this? idk. regardless, kudos+comments are greatly appreciated as always!

Jonah realizes, as soon as Brian asks, that moving to Brooklyn with him isn’t really a question.

But Brian’s asked, and Jonah has to answer.

 _Sure_ , he says. _Let’s do it._

There’s a thrill to the idea, cutting through the fear and the uncertainty of leaving home. Part of it _is_ the fact that he’s leaving home, really. He loves his family—truly, he does—but it gets tiring constantly tucking bits and pieces of his life and himself away from parental eyes. They’re always just a little too nearby for comfort, when Jonah just wants to bring a boy home for once without having to worry in the back of head about his dad showing up unannounced to invite him to (force him to) go out golfing or canoeing or whatever other very masculine, very heterosexual father-son bonding activity he’s decided it’s time for on any given day. His poor mother would have a heart attack if she knew what kind of company Jonah keeps.

And also, it’s Brian. Living with Brian. In New York City.

Again: no question.

Brian seems unsure when he first broaches the topic, a quiet _hey, so you know how I’ve been wanting to move out of my mom’s place, right? Well._ He explains Brooklyn, explains his plans, all in earnest, hopeful detail, then lifts searching, warm green-blue-brown-hazel- _god what color are they, whatever they are they’re so pretty_ eyes to Jonah and adds, _do you want to come with?_

 _Sure_ , he says, and hopes it doesn’t sound too eager. If it does, Brian is kind enough not to point it out.

So they move.

Figuring out how to cohabitate with Laura is almost a scary thing to do for all of one minute before it becomes apparent that living with her is not that different from living with Brian. She’s as witty and sharp-tongued as her brother, with an added edge of unpredictability Jonah has yet to figure out (but, he realizes, he might not mind all that much).

In any case, Jonah lives with Brian now. Brian. In New York City. In a tiny Brooklyn apartment. With Brian.

 _Fuck_ , it’s a good time, but _fuck_ , it’s maddening.

Jonah’s seen his fair share of early morning and late night Brians in college, sure. But it’s one thing to watch your roommate roll out of bed already late to class on a Wednesday morning, and quite another to walk into the kitchen of the apartment you share with your best friend of five years at 9AM on a Saturday to find him making breakfast—even though he can barely cook—and humming songs the two of you wrote when you were 19 as he brews coffee.

It’s just a little much.

Because Brian doesn’t know Jonah’s in love with him, and Brian doesn’t know what he does to him, when he smiles so open and free, dances around the apartment even when there’s no music playing, laughs at Jonah’s weird little quips, drags him onto the couch to watch his stupid shows with him, grabs him by the face when he gets the email from Polygon and squeals, _Jonah, we did it!!_

 _I didn’t do anything_ , Jonah protests through a smile and a flush in his cheeks that Brian is, mercifully, too worked up to notice.

 _Bullshit_ , is Brian’s reply, earnest. _You know damn well I would have lost my mind way before this point without you._

Jonah doesn’t have a response to that, but doesn’t need one, as Brian scuttles away to call Laura and tell her the good news. As soon as he’s out of the room, Jonah sinks down onto the couch and puts his head in his hands, drags his palms down his face. Zuko jumps up and just sits next to him, as if to say _I get you, man._

It’s around that time when Jonah considers, for the briefest moment, just telling him. Bracing himself, squeezing his eyes shut before opening them to look into Brian’s wide-eyed, mischievous perfect face, and whispering _I’m in love with you_. Just to see. To hang all his hopes on half-imagined glances and co-written love songs and five years of the slightest touches that linger warm and electric under his skin.

Then Brian comes home from his first day at the new job, his eyes bright and his entire body practically vibrating with adrenaline and the excitement of it all, and he has this look when he talks about _Patrick Gill, the guy I told you about who did the series with the Toad with the human legs, you know_ that Jonah’s all too familiar with. It’s the one he had their freshman year of college when he got back from a date with some sophomore Jonah didn’t know but Brian seemed enamored with; it’s the one he had when he’d Skyped home from Scotland gushing about the girl he’d met in his movement class, who he came back home with a second watch for that he’s since stopped wearing after his last trip overseas; it’s the one Jonah wishes Brian would have when he talked about _him_.

Jonah knows that look, and what it means. So he shuts up.  
  


He doesn’t meet Patrick Gill until a few months after Brian starts working at Polygon, though he’s seen a few of the guy’s videos. He’s dry and deadpan and fucking hilarious, on top of being the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. It’s not a surprise Brian, whose type basically amounts to “jock-goth hybrids”, is heads-over-heels for this man, all sharp angles and scruffy white-patched beard.

They’re playing a gig at some pub Brian apparently frequents with his colleagues when Jonah sees him. Patrick Gill sits stock still in the bustle of people, at a table not far from the stage, staring up at them— _at Brian_ —with a look that’s something like the one Jonah knows so well.

He looks like he’s in love.

(And _god_ , Jonah doesn’t blame him.)

Jonah lets his gaze linger a little too long; he slips on a chord, a minor mistake that only Brian should really notice. But when he glances sideways at him, there’s no returning look, with that near-imperceptible quirk of an eyebrow, the corner of a faintly-scarred lip drawn up. Instead, Brian is looking outwards as he sings in a laser-focused line the endpoint of which Jonah does not need to see to know.

Something is different about the timbre of Brian’s voice, now that he’s spotted Patrick in the audience. It’s as sweet and clear as always, but there’s a sense of yearning that wasn’t there before, a tone that sounds like reaching out. The blend changes. The harmony sounds _off_ , _off_ , _off_ , _wrong_ even though he knows he’s singing all the right notes. Jonah’s voice doesn’t _work_ with this.

So he lets it dim, lets it quiet, before he stops singing altogether. Brian keeps crooning, sweet and clear, with his whole being focused on Patrick Gill, as Jonah fixes his attention resolutely at his fretboard, and plays.

After their set, Brian scrambles to introduce them; it’s a flurry of _Jonah this is Pat, Pat this is Jonah, yeah, from work, yeah, we met in college we live together yuh-huh hey Pat can I get you a drink?_ as if Pat hasn’t been nursing a bottle the entire time he’s been here, clutching it white-knuckled when Brian gets close. Maybe Brian doesn’t notice in all his excitement. Jonah does.

Brian bounces off to get drinks. Jonah excuses himself to the bathroom.

He doesn’t come back to the table, though, because he can see Brian and Patrick’s heads ducked close together even from across the pub, Brian’s shoulders shaking as he laughs, and Jonah doesn’t want to interrupt. He wanders a little aimlessly for a few minutes before finding a spot at the bar, gets himself a beer he doesn’t really enjoy.

He drinks. Checks his phone. Usually they’re packing up to go home by now. He has another drink.

A pretty girl slides into the seat next to him at one point saying something about how much she liked their set. She’s got a glint in her eye that feels too much like Brian when he’s got some new devilish idea that Jonah won’t know how to say no to. He mutters a thank you and turns back to his bottle. She huffs and leaves.

He’s just the slightest bit unsteady on his feet when he checks the time again— _long past when they’re usually home_ —pays his tab and goes to fetch Brian.

When he finds him, Brian is spilling gracelessly into Patrick’s space, flushed and laughing and all with that look, the one he never has when he talks about Jonah but never stops having when he talks about Patrick Gill and it doesn’t fade entirely when he looks up at Jonah’s approach and _god, it’s too much._

 _Hey_ , Jonah says, gruffly, _you ready to go home, or…?_

Brian trades a glance with Patrick, who’s just as red and mirthful and so obviously in love. _Actually, Jo, uh. I think I’m gonna head back with Pat, if that’s alright with you._

And it is. It’s totally fine with him. It’s fine it’s fine it’s  _fine_.

 _Yeah, that’s no problem. I’ll see you._ Then, as an addendum, _Nice meeting you, Patrick_.

Patrick looks away from Brian just long enough to nod and respond _you too_ before Brian leans back into him with a giggle and his attention is diverted back to the armful of love-drunk, cocktail-drunk Gilbert under his chin. It’s cute. They’re in love.

Jonah takes his leave.  
  


_Where’s Bri?_ Laura asks when he gets home, still awake, because she always sits on the couch knitting or watching TV and waits for them to get back from gigs so she can hear how it went.

 _With a guy from work who came to the show_ , Jonah says, and hopes it doesn’t sound too broken. Laura’s brow furrows.

_Pat?_

_Yeah._

Laura’s fixing him with that look that freezes him on the doormat, searching and knowing simultaneously, makes him feel like he’s entirely see-through to the bone. Zuko pads quietly past him, just barely brushing against his shins as if to say _good luck repressing this one_. It’s distractedly appreciated.

Finally, Laura speaks, in the gentle probing voice she uses with the kids she nannies: _you like him, don’t you?_

 _I’m in love with him_.

The sentence bursts from him before he can stop himself, and hangs heavy and pathetic in the air between them. He’s not crying. Most likely.

Laura’s expression goes through several iterations before settling on a quiet sort of pity, and she says, _Oh, Jonah._

_Sorry._

_… What for?_

_Being in love with your brother, I guess?_

_Oh, Jonah…_

He’s not crying. Maybe.

Laura moves to get up and hand him the tissue box from the coffee table, still looking at him with all that quiet pity, so maybe he is crying. Just a little bit.

 _It’s alright, Jonah_ , Laura begins, and suddenly the room spins around him.

He pushes past her and only just barely avoids falling flat on his face as the floor bucks under his feet. _I need to- shower and go to bed, I’m exhausted, sorry_ , he says, because it’s not a lie, really. He does need to go to bed. He is exhausted.

Laura doesn’t try to follow as he stumbles into his room. His guitar is thrown onto the bed as he locks the door behind him then slides to the floor. The ground keeps pulsing underneath him.

And it’s _fine_.

Brian doesn’t look at him the way the way he looks at Patrick Gill, who he’s in love with, who makes him so beautifully indescribably perfectly _happy_ , and it’s _fine._

The walls keep pushing in around him. Making it hard to breathe.

It’s _fine_.

Jonah’s phone vibrates what feels like an eternity later with a text from Brian.

**_Be home in the morning_ **

**_Sorry jo!_ **

**_Love you_ **

Dear fucking god. It takes everything in him not to throw his phone across the room.

He’s in New York City. In a Brooklyn apartment that’s too small, with Brian. Brian, who is his best friend. That he’s in love with. Brian, who is not here right now. Who is in love with someone else all over again.

And it’s _fine_.

It’s always been fine.

**Author's Note:**

> also i have a rpf sideblog now! follow me over [@ahimbo](https://ahimbo.tumblr.com/) on tumblr for, uhh, content, i think?  
> also on twitter [@mouthfulloflime](https://twitter.com/mouthfulloflime), but pls lmk who you are for me to accept your request!


End file.
